Babkas are already these glorious, layered, twisted delights–so it feels almost excessive to add yet another Indian twist to the whole affair, but that’s what the recipes in this post are about to do.
There’s a whole history to the babka (of course) leaning back into Jewish traditions in Eastern Europe which I’m going to let the food historians tussle over. For me it matters only that the word “babka” means little grandmother—the challah being the mother whose leftover dough would be rolled up with jam or cinnamon and baked in a simple braid. It’s a leftover treatment that became posh in the new world, with the addition of more-expensive (but then also more accessible) chocolate. These days one finds haute babkas with all sorts of fillings; they’re a palette for whatever you wish to fold within—green chutneys, tahini-date fillings, nuts and custards and whatnot. Babkas, as I read somewhere, would be the thing to transform a bakery into a destination—they have that flair! Babkas also transformed with the addition of rather generous quantities of butter (rather than oils which would have kept it pareve/parve)—which make the babka rather more rich, but still much more bread than cake. Something like a panettone, but softer. But I love both breads and cakes, little grandmother, so it matters not!
Now recipes for babkas are written with a certain euro-centricity—“room temperature” me is an oven on low heat for you. Butters don’t stand up in my town, at least beyond January. Creams fall hopelessly. Milk never produces sour cream naturally, but goes straight to spoilage. I knew this, but had to learn this about my little grandmother all over again: she’s European after all, and needed refrigeration and pause to stay beautiful before baking. Good thing just about all babka recipes call for division: we all have two grandmothers after all! So my first learning attempt was the one with the moles and the wrinkles and the second was the dramatic one with the neat lines and swirly skirts.
But I loved them both, and the process of assembling them about as much as the products.
Here are the process photos–and process you must enjoy as much as the product, because it’s longish and it takes care. You can talk to your grandmothers the whole time, tell them all the stories you never could in real life, and they’ll return only sweetness and savory relish to you in the warmth of wrinkly folds.
You’ll start with making the dough the night before you want your grandmothers baked, but the real fun is the next morning. That’s when you roll out the dough, slather it with either chocolate (sprinkled over with mahua and nuts) or coriander chile pesto, roll, cut, braid, rise a second time–and bake.
The process demands attention (and sometimes a little extra refrigeration) but the images more-or-less speak for themselves, so here they are with minimal narration. The full recipe follows just after & a video of the story highlight of just this I’d once prepared for Instagram consumption.
Rolling the challah dough…
Gently spread on the prepared filling & roll, roll, roll!
Here’s the coriander chile walnut pesto:
You can leave make your babka with just chocolate like so…
Or you can sprinkle on chopped nuts and mascerated mahua flowers…
I had a jar of mahua flowers collected earlier in the year, which I’d stored in a jar with just sugar. I strained out the accumulated liquid (it’s a delicious syrup now), and chopped some flowers up to use in the babka.
Mahua flowers are difficult to substitute with anything else but raisins, and I’d not put raisins in my chocolate babka, so if you don’t have them, leave them out. But if you can get them even in dried form, they add a lovely flavor!
Time to slice and braid!
Here’s the chocolate… (I only post pictures of my prettier grandmother here, but you can see the other a few images down!)
And the coriander chile walnut…
Now gently lift and set these in loaf pans lined with parchment…
Again chocolate — and there’s my first, not-so-pretty grandma! set next to my swirly dazzling one.
I often do one sweet and one savory…
Out of the oven & glazed & sliced!
Chocolate Mahua and Coriander Chilli Walnut Babkas
Equipment
- 2 large mixing bowls
- Hand mixer/stand mixer
- Tray to rest babka dough overnight
- 2 loaf pans
Ingredients
For the challah dough
- 1 cup warm whole fat milk
- 1 tablespoon sugar
- 2 ¼ teaspoons yeast (1 packet)
- 4 cups all purpose flour
- 1/3 cup sugar
- 2 teaspoons salt
- ½ stick of butter, at room temperature, cubed
For the chocolate mahua filling (sufficient for 2 babkas; halve if you’re making only 1)
- 12 oz bittersweet chocolate
- 6 tablespoons unsalted butter
- A handful of chopped mahua flowers—fresh/dried/mascerated
- A handful of chopped walnuts or pecans
Chocolate Mahua Babka Glaze
- ½ cup sugar boiled for 1 minute with ½ cup water with some mahua flower syrup added for flavor into a simple syrup
For the coriander chilli walnut filling (sufficient for 2 babkas; halve if you’re making only 1)
- 1 big bunch fresh coriander
- 1-2 green chillies
- 1-2 garlic cloves
- ½ cup grated parmesan cheese
- ¼ cup olive oil
- 1 cup toasted walnuts
- Juice of a medium sized lemon
- Salt to taste
Coriander Babka Glaze
- a few cloves minced garlic fried in 2 tablespoons butter
Instructions
The night before:
- Set 1 cup warm whole fat milk in the bowl of a stand mixer or large mixing bowl
- Add 1 tablespoon sugar and 2 ¼ teaspoons yeast (1 packet), stir, and leave this until it is foamy—about 5 minutes
- In a separate bowl, mix 4 cups all purpose flour, 1/3 cup sugar and 2 teaspoons salt
- Once the yeast-milk is nice and foamy, add 2 large eggs (mix a bit) and then the dry ingredients from the prior step
- Mix on low speed and then high until the mixture comes together in a tacky mass. If this is still crumbly, sprinkle just enough milk to get it together (not too much! Butter comes next!)
- Now add ½ stick of butter—cubed and at room temperature—all in one go, and mix well for about 7 minutes. The dough will remain tacky, and that’s just fine.
- Cover and leave this to rest and rise for an hour.
- Once the dough has risen slightly, divide into 2 equal portions, fashion each into a neat square and set these in a baking tray covered with foil (or an old, clean plastic bag).
- Rest this overnight, refrigerated.
The next morning:
- Start by making your fillings.
- For the chocolate: heat chocolate and butter in a bain marie or double boiler or bowl placed on top of (but not touching) simmering water, and mix until melted, smooth and glossy. Set aside to cool slightly and/or refrigerate if needed.
- For the coriander walnut: assemble all ingredients in a food processor or mixie jar and pulse, adding the oil slowly, until you have an almost smooth paste. Set aside.
- Prep the loaf pans by lining them with parchment. Leave a bit of an overhang on both long sides. You’ll use that later to lift the baked babkas out of the pans.
- Take one dough square and roll it out on a well-floured surface into a rectangle whose width is the same as your loaf pan – about 9-10”. I use my cutting board as a rough measure.
- Now spread the filling on top gently. Remember that if you’ve made the whole batch of filling, you’re using ½ on each of the 2 dough squares. If you have excess filling, save it for some other use (they’re both great spreads on their own).
- For the chocolate babka: Sprinkle the chopped nuts and mahua flowers over the spread chocolate.
- Roll the dough slowly and as tightly as you can, along the 9-10” (shorter) edge, taking care not to squeeze the filling out. You want a roll that is the length of your baking pan, no matter the thickness.
- If the dough gets too soft or the filling is too runny, refrigerate for a few minutes until both are firmer and try again.
- When you’re done rolling, you should have a tidy roll. Most recipes will tell you to trim the edges, but I leave them on. Again, if the dough appears to be softening, refrigerate for about 15 mins until it’s all a little easier to handle.
- Turn the roll seam-side down. Cut in 2 halves along the length, with a sharp knife.
- Once the two halves are split, gently braid them.
- Then lift and tuck them into the waiting loaf pans. Don’t worry if they are a touch long, just adjust here and there till they’re tucked in.
- Repeat the above steps with the second challah dough square.
- Once both babkas are tucked into their loaf pans, cover with tea towels and let these rest for 2 hours, or until they’ve risen again.
- Pre-heat your oven to 180C/375F and bake the babkas for 45 minutes or until a skewer inserted comes out clean. The tops should be browning slightly.
- Get your glazes ready if you haven’t already—and pour or brush these on top of the warm babkas. They’re ready to be sliced and devoured!
[…] Rose petal fermentation with honey gives us gulkand, but with sugar and a little water turns into a most gorgeously scented, ever so lightly soured, pink-red shrub. Here you want more sweet than sour, and no stronger vinegar addition. Rose is cooling enough on its own anyway. Amaltas, Konnapoo, Cassia Fistula, the Indian Laburnum flowers come with the white heat of June, and yield softly and slowly to water and sugar additions. A shrub produced from these petals is never huge in quantity, but a little taste is enough to convey the taste of the whole tree. I stretch what I get by adding small spoonfuls of the fermented petals to rose shrubs, making them look like abstract artworks in a glass. Mahua, Madhuca Indica, Iluppai in Tamil–these flowers are traditionally used to produce alcohols, which is a sign that they ferment very easily. Mascerating these in sugar gives you a thick enough liquid to use as a flavoring for all kinds of other uses, from drinks to pancake syrups. This is one shrub that may do well with the addition of some other vinegar, maybe even apple cider, and the fermented flowers are like raisins that pair remarkably well with chocolate in a good babka. […]